a psalm for the loveless

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there is comfort in clean sheets and the promise of “a good night’s sleep”. the allure of cool, crisp cotton beckons. the black ink of night fuels my scribe as i scratch across cheap paper in the dim of my lonely room. writing a song, in the dark, with a 5-string guitar, is cathartic. but there are too many distractions. my thoughts resolve back to the dead fox cub on the Standing Stanes Road and i sob,  my arms wrapped around Julio*,  my shoulders shaking. outside, the street lights shine like beacons for breaking hearts, insomniacs, poets and moths. someone is yelling. God knows what, but it’s 4.42am and the streets are already wet. the atonal hum of summer rain sounds like a song for the hopeless or a psalm for the loveless. a burgeoning hope, that tomorrow will be a brighter day.  the sea sounds so far away; weak, and diluted by this new precipitation. this time of calm is stirred by an itch in my [open] left palm. and, a ringing in my ears breaks my thoughts in Fmaj7.  i play along.  words fold and unfold and float by me, like soggy paper boats in my own sea of rambling.  i lay down and strum. sleep will come, easily.  songs often manifest in my dreams. there are six planets on their rise, elliptical. they are all visible with the naked eye, if you know where to look.  i close my eyes, put down the pen and close my book.  i hold on tight to Julio, in the absurd hope that he will sing me to sleep, as i pluck strings in harmony with the gentle peal of the wind chime above my head, as the palest breeze waxes lyrical.

[i don’t remember falling asleep, but i guess i must’ve………………….]

5 hours later, i find myself awake and Julio still asleep on the bed beside me.  quiet. there is paper and guitar picks everywhere.  my thoughts resolve to my lover, along the coast; i can still smell his scent in the tangled mess of my hair.

 

 

(c) Kat McDonald 2016

-for Robert – with you, i never feel loveless. i love you, like i was born to.

thank you, fellow writers

followed-blog-1000-2x

WOW!

when i first joined WordPress and began to share my work… my ramblings… with the WordPress community – fellow writers, literary aficionados, critics and publishers etc – i never anticipated anyone would want to read what i had to say, let alone subscribe to my rants and ramblings and share their thoughts on my work, and actually enjoy reading my work or be moved by it in some manner. but i shared it anyway. now i have an international audience of over 1000 readers. so i have to thank you, from the deepest chambers of my heart. thank you, thank you, thank you.

i write from the heart so it really does mean a lot to me when you connect with me – and tell me why you liked a particular piece. it really does resound in the heart. it makes me feel it is all worthwhile and not just a ‘cheaper than therapy’ means of self-expression.

i hope you all continue to read my words. i hope i can always keep you interested, your fascination tickled and make you want to keep returning to share my ‘inner focus’, my words & imagery.

thank you all so very much for your loyalty, those of you who keep returning and leave little footprints by way of comments. i love to hear from you.
and big a big thanks to those of you who merely stumbled upon a particular piece and shared your thoughts with me. i like that too.

one love.

Kat xx

anniversary

anniversary-2x

 

a journey, a long and beautiful journey, that saw me and my words and images drift around the Sun six times has led me here…

… happy 6th anniversary to me!

 

THANK YOU all of my loyal followers, and accidental readers…

Your support has been noted.

 

 

A Pilgrim’s Pilgrimage

Source: A Pilgrim’s Pilgrimage

“we could physically feel the stresses and strains of town life fall away… the Scottish Highlands opened up before us.  we needed this. we were there, amidst the wild of the bracken and heather; the sheep and the sheep shit; the silence and breath-taking beauty…”

~ excerpt from A Pilgrim’s Pilgrimage, 2015 :: their journey in pictures, shot while filming on location in the Scottish Highlands & Islands, garnering film footage for the film ‘Wilderness’ to accompany their debut album – both out soon!

who are Pilgrims?

that, in itself, is a story to be told…

a sound born in a storm.  star-crossed lovers.  a lovesong.  a sound supernatural, homespun and honest.  a map of the stars. paprika tea.  a series of totemic animals that have furnished their love, and their music.

All images (c) Kat McDonald, Robert Davidson & Pilgrims UK 2015

~ nae nickin’!

OMFG! a big f*@king thank you!

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OMFG!

just a little THANK YOU to all of you out there, in WordPress Land, that have followed my INNER FOCUS blog thingy… i am blown away by the fact that i have almost 1000 followers. i never anticipated this. i am really touched. i write for myself, not for anyone or any reason. i just write.

[it’s cheaper than therapy]

i enjoy reading your comments about my writing, and answering your questions about where my inspiration comes from etc.  truth is, i can’t pinpoint it to one specific thing.  i read alot.  and i am a photographer and musician, so words and imagery are vital to me.

i try, where possible, to put both visual imagery and written imagery to good use.  i am often vague, cryptic and explicit. a paradox.

but that’s life, isn’t it?

anyway… i am rambling.

this is just a short wee post as a means of thanks – to you all – for the loyal visitations to my page, for your constructive criticism and conviction in my writing. sometimes i have precious little belief in myself and think “oh what the hell! publish and be damned… nobody reads it anyway” but almost 1000 followers – WOW!

i am, genuinely, moved by how my inner focus has been received here.  thank you, thank you, thank you…

IF you want to view my OTHER wordpress account, visit here – it is a series of true stories (equal parts funny and tragic) based on my love/hate relationship with public transport.  it’s called ‘Life’s Rich Pageant’.

[sounds boring…]

it isn’t.  you may laugh, you may cry… you may even LIKE it!  🙂

thank you all for taking me into your hearts and minds.

namaste

Kat x

over-tired

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the sun throws strange shapeshifting shadows across a white wall. they dance to the hum of traffic. quiet time. the mind is not quiet. the mind is a fairground. a fairground distraction. thoughts and memories spin, like a big wheel of disjointed thoughts, round and up to a dizzying height; the urgency of emotions make the belly lurch, like a rollercoaster of emotional spin, alternating currents of momentary weightlessness and serious gravity.

over-tired.

relax.

the  mind              is     lost.

relax.

the body, tight, an over-wound spring.
the mind, a sidewinder, coiled and primed.
step back, for it will attack.

relax.

(c) Kat McDonald 2015

the trapping

Wolves in traps,  1909-1918

i covet the skin

– the hide

– the seek

the light fingerings

and fumble.

fingers, telepathic,

find the skin,

taut

and warm.

i covet the skin

his skin.

for he is my lover

and beneath the cover

of blanket and night,

i search for the warmth

and softness of

his skin.

i want to slip beneath.

it is his skin.

this skin

on my skin

that i covet,

addicted.

my fingers search,

in the dark.

SNAP

like a bear trap,

my hand is caught.

i cannot free myself,

nor do i want to

struggle

or wrench myself free.

i want to be caught

in the trapping

of his skin,

his eyes,

mapping.

i covet the skin

and crave the ache

for such beauty

and purity

of his love

– this pain

– this pine

– this quake.

i crave this yearning

and desire

to hold

and never let go.

i crave the wilderness

of his eyes;

i want to run

with the wild animal

that is his mind.

time and time

– again

i willingly run

into this trap…

this tender trap of

his body,

his love,

this lust.

 

 

word (c) Kat McDonald 2015

image source: Wikipedia

shiver

Shark

circling…
circling…

innocent and
blind as a newborn,
conjoined,
the lovers swim out, out, out
out into the deepest ocean
the lovers swim
and leave the shore,
behind,
oh these fearless lovers,
unfazed,
feet do not touch the ground

circling…
circling…

cradled in
the solace
of darkest waters
the lovers dive down, down, down
to a world without sound
the lovers chase the horses
in brine, entwined
oh these fearless lovers,
cut and kick
with grace,
unfazed,
feet do not touch the ground

and they come…

they come
to destroy angels
they come
to tear apart
they come
in constant rhythm
they come
to hunt in packs
they come
to drown the lovers
they come
to make a splash
they come
to seek attention
they come
they gatecrash

(circling)
it’s personal
(circling)
they come
(circling)
here they come,
shivering…

(c) Kat McDonald

you have NO idea!

hibernation

foxes

the bodies furl
around and
entwine
the sleeping limbs,
and the sleeping hands.
she, with midnight eyes,
stirs and curls
her body round
his back.
those eyes close,
yet the fingers find
the sweet nut and crack.

then i feel
her hand…
i stir and rest there.

he too stirs and turns;
engaged.
the skies of his eyes
darken with night.
yet, he sips a kiss
from the fingerprints
of her sleeping left hand.
they move
together slowly,
like dancers,
dancing through
time and consciousness;
never breaking contact.

hours slip;
three…
five
ante-meridian.
perfect silence
but for the breathing,
soft;
and the nuzzling.

it is the quietest dawn,
as birdsong falls
upon sleeping drum;
no bugle call
or pealing bell
only the blush
of a brush
of lip over hip.

words, drift;
“i
love
your
bones…”
murmured, in
a circle of breath;
they smudge the skin,
and burrow within.
four fleeting kisses
grace her shoulder;
she places his hand
between the smouldering
grip and smelt,
to hold fast
the love there.

i feel awake,
but not forsaken.
i stretch out
and wait…

 

(c) Kat McDonald 2014

*apologies, i cannot find the source of this beautiful image to credit*

night light

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wild eyes
– eyes that fight
fire with fire
and puncture
this heart
with desire.
wild, wild eyes
– sharp,
as surgeon’s knife,
cut to the soul.
in their infinite focus,
fiercely protective.
wide eyes
– so calm and pacific,
mirroring,
murmuring unspokens.
wide eyes that yield
a haven
– to feel safe in –
safe from the storms
of this vortex mind
and its contaminations.
wise eyes,
eyes that cut
through the murk
and the mire
– that dampen,
darken,
and strangle like wire.
[Oh bright eyes…
how you illuminate me!]
bright eyes
– brilliant, backlit
and blue;
most beautiful
eyes that see through
any self-imposed maze
of self-doubt.
[thank you, bright eyes
-for all that you are, and
know that you are…]
– a night light for this child,
– a hearth in the wild,
– my wilderness,
– my fuel,
– my fire,
– my inspired.

image & words (c) Kat McDonald 2014